


My Way

by liverstomp



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, is mentioned?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 14:43:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8018038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liverstomp/pseuds/liverstomp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Junhui never does what Jihoon wants him to do, and Jihoon may or may not be getting tired of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Way

“Fuck,” Jihoon gasps into the pillows around ragged breathing. Junhui’s hand slides up his back, around to his chest, fingertips lighter than feathers but somehow still enough to catch him on fire everywhere. Carefully, cautiously travelling down to graze against Jihoon’s bared cock as its tip only just drags against the sheets below. Slowly, methodically wrapping around the length and pumping with an unfair slowness he knows Jihoon can’t stand. Jihoon wants to scream at him to just go _faster_ , but he can’t think. He never can, and Junhui knows it. Hot breath hitting his back sends chills down his spine as Junhui chuckles, low and gruff, and he wants to scream even more.

 

“I want you so bad right now,” Junhui’d said the second he got home from work. No sooner was he in the door than he had his arms around Jihoon’s torso, pressing wet kisses into the crook of his neck and effectively halting him in his task of preparing dinner. Jihoon squirmed a little bit, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love it when Junhui was so stupidly forward, if he said the sound of his voice so deep and close to his ear didn’t go straight to his dick every time.

“Yeah?” It was hard to keep back laughter when Junhui was so clearly struggling with the strings of the apron, but he was really trying his best.

“Yeah,” Junhui whispered against his skin. He nibbled at the spot right below Jihoon’s ear, and Jihoon felt it like lightning in every individual vertebrae.

“Let’s have dinner first,” he managed to mumble, but as he felt Jun pull him back a little closer, felt the erection straining against his slacks, he knew all the work he’d put into slicing the vegetables was about to go to waste.

“I’m not hungry.”

 

“Faster,” Jihoon pants when he can finally get his brain to string letters together. “Go faster.” He feels the lips against his back smirk, and while he always knows what’s coming, he’s never prepared when Junhui goes slower, tightening his grip at the base and taking his sweet time to travel up the rest of the shaft. His brain melts to jelly again immediately, and he lets out a moan so lewd he’s almost sure it couldn’t have been him. Junhui’s hips buck in response, plunging his cock just a little bit deeper into Jihoon, and he _really_ wants to scream now, would kill for Junhui to just _move_ already.

Of course, Junhui doesn’t move. He never does. He slides the hand on Jihoon’s ass to his stomach and pulls him closer, pressing his broad chest onto Jihoon’s bare back while he continues with that agonizingly slow pace. They’re both slick with sweat, and Jihoon thinks it’s sort of gross that he doesn’t even mind being so sticky. He wishes he could turn around and see the look on Jun’s face, that way he gazes out from under his eyelids, hazy and dark, or the way his breath comes in uneven pants that move his whole chest. He’d do just about anything to get a good look at him, but they both know it’ll undo him so quick ten times out of ten, and Junhui’s not letting that happen.

 

“Are you sure you don’t want to eat?” Jihoon had muttered halfheartedly as Junhui all but ripped his clothes off. After the handful of messy kisses that pushed them back to the bedroom, he wasn’t really feeling like dinner either, but the more reasonable part of him was still hopeful those bell peppers wouldn’t go to waste.

“Jihoon.” His voice was gravelly and so damn _sexy_ and Jihoon’s boxers were suddenly way too tight. “We can eat later,” he continued with a smirk, pulling a tube of lube from the bedside drawer, “but right now, I need you.”

“You sure?” Junhui was quick, already fumbling with the buttons on Jihoon’s pants. He looked up from his task and answered by way of pulling Jihoon down into a sloppy kiss, heavy on tongue and light on air. Jihoon thought dinner was overrated anyway.

 

After what feels like eons, Junhui finally starts moving a little faster, tugging a little more insistently at Jihoon’s aching cock. His hips involuntarily buck with every stroke, and Junhui has to use his hand to still them. Jihoon really thinks he might cry out of sheer impatience.

“Why won’t you,” he gasps, “just… _fuck_ me already?” Without warning, Junhui slides out until just the tip is left, then slams back in with one brutal thrust. Galaxies are rolling by in Jihoon’s eyes as he clutches desperately at the pillow under his face, uttering a long groan, low and guttural.

“Like that?” Junhui whispers into his ear, breath far too hot. Jihoon’s head bobs so quickly it’s about to snap clean off his neck, vision still blurry.

“ _Yes_ ,” he breathes. Junhui chuckles again, pressing his lips to the back of his neck and humming. The vibrations shoot straight through Jihoon’s core.

“You’re so impatient.”

“I don’t,” Jihoon begins, breath hitching when Junhui squeezes at his balls, “wanna hear that from you.” Junhui laughs and hums again.

 

“Can we do what I want today?” Jihoon asked while Junhui was slicking his fingers up with lube. He poked a cold digit at the tight ring of muscle around Jihoon’s asshole and let his lips fall into a frown. “Don’t fucking pout,” Jihoon scolded. “You’re a grown man.”

“We always do what you want,” he whined.

“Are you kidding? We _never_ do what I want!” Junhui pushed a finger in right as he finished speaking, so the last word came out a lot more sharp inhale than coherent syllable.

“Sorry,” he said unapologetically, working the finger in and out slowly until Jihoon was comfortable. His breaths were already starting to get a little heavier when Junhui trailed open-mouthed kisses up his thigh. “I swear on my life we’ll do what you want next time.”

“We better,” Jihoon said, and the words had barely left his lips when he felt Junhui’s mouth take him in.

 

It’s an aching eternity before Junhui finally starts complying with Jihoon’s requests, but when he does, he really does. The rumpled sheets pressing into Jihoon’s thighs are going to leave red indentations once they’re finished, each thrust forcing him down more and more into the mattress. He’s having a tough time getting air to his lungs between the pitchy wails tearing out of his throat, and the speed of the hand on his cock isn’t helping. His hands clutch wildly at anything they can find purchase on, and he feels warmth start to tighten the base of his gut.

“Junhui,” he gargles, “let me…” _See you_ , he intends to finish, but he chokes on a moan before he can, a hit right to that spot Junhui always seems to find so easily sending his brain off the rails. Junhui seems to get the memo, though—maybe because Jihoon asks for the same thing every time—and he maneuvers him until they’re facing each other almost before Jihoon notices he’s doing it.

“Jihoon,” he pants. “You’re so fucking pretty.” His thrusts are erratic and arrhythmic, and Jihoon moans with ungodly volume at just the words. If he could get his brain to form sentences, he’d tell Junhui the same, that he’s so fucking beautiful, that he’s a miracle on earth, but all he can do is reach up to run his hands over the muscles on his chest, his arms, intoxicated by the sultry look in his eyes and the feeling of his cock filling him up. He drags him down for a sideways kiss to try to make up for it, but the way he hears Junhui breathing from so close is too much, all ragged and frantic, and all his knots are so easy to untie.

He nearly screams when he comes, harder than he can remember doing for a long time, milky white splattering both of their chests. Junhui follows almost immediately, groaning as he rides it out, both gasping and drained once he pulls out and tosses the condom away. He falls back beside Jihoon and pulls him into his arms, wiggling to get at least their legs under the duvet and planting warm kisses on the back of his neck.

They’re disgusting and they still haven’t eaten dinner, and Jihoon really can’t believe that he doesn’t mind it, but he doesn’t. Not one bit, speck, iota, shred, anything. He’s fine being disgusting as long as Jun’s disgusting with him, and he loves it, loves that there’s no one else on earth he’d tolerate being disgusting with.

“I promise we’ll do it your way next time,” Junhui mutters into his hair. “But I was thinking about that all day, and I just… needed that.” He drums his fingers on Jihoon’s sternum playfully, a mesmerizing beat with no meter. “I needed you.”

“Do you have any idea how much work I put into slicing those vegetables?”

“Jihoon…” Jihoon can tell he feels bad even though Junhui knows he’s only joking, and he loves that about him, too.

“You know I’m joking.” He pauses before continuing. “Maybe your way’s not so bad,” he admits, and Junhui hums another laugh into his spine.


End file.
